


There's No Smoke Without Fire

by toesohnoes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having defeated his nemesis, Moriarty is bored. He teams up with John to bring Sherlock out of hiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Smoke Without Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/16181399879/sherlock-isnt-the-only-one-who-likes-to-watch).

Sherlock isn’t the only one who likes to watch from the shadows.

Moriarty keeps his distance. He’s aware that Sherlock is out there somewhere: neither one of them is lax enough to allow a little confrontation like the one on the roof to be their final end. Moriarty would have been highly disappointed if it had ended like that.

Nobody has appeared to have told John that, however. He’s still moping about and sulking in his therapist’s office once a week. Such a shame - such a waste.

It seems natural to put him out of his misery.

And it’s so easy to let himself into John’s new flat. Hardly any security at all, and it isn’t as if a bolt or a chain has been invented that could keep him out. He spends his time while he’s waiting going through John’s things: so many pointless and dull belongings, yet none of it feels real to him. Moriarty feels as if he’s standing in the middle of a manufactured room. This isn’t where John Watson belongs, not the real one. Not the one who had held himself together while there was a bomb laced around his chest, or the one who had met his gaze in court with nothing short of stern disapproval.

The John that lives in this flat is an empty shell. Moriarty thinks that it’s long past time he was brought back to life.

When he hears the sound of John’s approach he settles down in the armchair and grins. The grin only widens when John steps in the door.

His shopping bags fall to the ground immediately. Smashed eggs and crushed bread. It’s all rather dramatic.

And then, most delightfully, John pulls out his faithful gun. “You’re dead,” John states, blank and certain. “What’s going on?”

Moriarty hasn’t had this much fun in years.

“The whole ‘being dead’ thing isn’t nearly as entertaining as you’d think,” Moriarty drawls. “I thought it was time to crawl out of the woodwork.”

“Crawl back,” John says. “Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

He really doesn’t know, Moriarty concludes. Sherlock really has kept him in the dark all this time. So much for friendship. So much for love.

John stares at him, his aim with his gun steady and true; right at the heart. Moriarty takes a breath, grins, and relishes the moment as he says, “Sherlock isn’t dead.”

John swallows and continues to stare at him, breathing heavily through his nose. Moriarty can practically see the wheels turning in his little mind, as he tries to put everything together. It’s like watching someone fall in slow motion. Nearly as funny too.

“Why don’t you and I join forces and smoke him out?” Moriarty suggests.

John’s eyes narrow. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe I feel like joining the side of the angels for once,” Moriarty says. He breaks into a grin. “Or maybe I’ve decided that the world is a little more interesting with him in it.”

Maybe he feels like having the sidekick for once and going on adventures; maybe he wants to have what Sherlock had, someone to look up at him and admire his genius. What is life without an audience? Sometimes ordinary people could have their uses, and John was so very perfectly ordinary.

Moriarty has played a lot of roles in his life. He doubts that any of them will be quite as fun as playing at being Sherlock.


End file.
